The Girl You Lost
by axxe
Summary: When the flock was whole, there were six. And now it is shattered. One-shot. AH. Rated T for mature references.


**A/N:**

**So, this is the first AH fic I've ever written. I hope it doesn't disappoint. It's not a songfic, but it was inspired by The Girl You Lost To Cocaine by Sia. I suggest the Stonebridge Radio Edit of the song.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride.**

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><p>When they were whole, there were six.<p>

The Leader.

The Dark one.

The Blind one.

The Chatterbox.

The Trooper.

The Youngest one.

They were happy, and they called themselves the flock. Their past wasn't perfect; they were all fostered by the Leader's biological mother. They weren't perfect, either – the Blind one and the Trooper were pyromaniacs, the Chatterbox could turn Mother Teresa into an axe murderer, the Dark one hardly spoke, the Youngest one was hardly an angel though she looked like one, and the Leader heard a Voice. This didn't matter. They had each other.

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><p>"You know, without you guys, I would be nothing," the Leader told the rest of the flock one day, while they were still unbroken. She had been lying on the grass with the flock scattered around, holding the hand of the Dark one, who was her best friend and confidant, and had the Youngest one, still too young to attend pre-school, curled up into her side. The flock was close knit, but the Leader and the Youngest one were especially tight.<p>

It was the first and last time the Leader ever said it, but the flock never completely forgot it and it never stopped being true.

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><p>Over time, however, the Youngest one became unsatisfied. She felt resentful toward the Leader. Who did she think she was, to decide that she was the head of the flock? She was schizophrenic; she was imperfect. The Youngest one felt that she was more qualified to lead and that though she was the baby she had the most potential. The whole flock was advanced intellectually, but she in particular was far ahead for her age. She was more mature, more removed.<p>

She wanted to become the one in command.

And she formulated a plan to reach her goal.

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><p>The Youngest one began to resist the Leader's instructions, to begin fights. The leader wasn't sure how to handle the Youngest one, but she did the best she could. Sometimes, though, she made the wrong decision, or acted and spoke before thinking properly. She was only human, after all. It reflected badly on her.<p>

The Youngest one used this to convince each one of the flock that the Leader was not fit to be in charge; she was very good at influencing people. The Trooper was the first to be persuaded – he was her biological brother and though the flock had a strong trust circle, they shared blood. The Blind one was next, because he and the Trooper had a strong bond. The Chatterbox was last, as she was easy-going and supportive; it was hard to sway her to a side when she was a permanent Switzerland.

The Youngest one did not try to convince the Dark one – he loved the Leader in a different way to the rest of the flock, and though he was sometimes called the emotionless rock, it was apparent to everybody except for the Leader.

There was nothing the Youngest one could do that could change that.

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><p>The Youngest one and the Leader had another fight. This time, the Youngest one questioned the Leader's position, and held a vote as to whether she should be a part of the flock. After her background work, the majority voted that the Leader should leave.<p>

How could the Leader resist?

Heartbroken, she accepted this decision, and removed herself from the flock. Soon after the Dark one left, for he didn't feel that the flock was a flock when one was missing.

Thus the Youngest one became the leader, and obtained what she wanted.

And the flock chipped and cracked.

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><p>At first, what remained of the flock liked the changes that the Youngest one brought. She was much more liberal than the Leader had been, and had eradicated the rules that she had put in place. The freedom was plentiful, addictive, intoxicating.<p>

The flock was happy, while the Leader was left behind.

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><p>What was the Leader if she had nobody to lead? She was a book without pages, a body without a soul. And so, while she watched the flock from afar, she sunk into depression. Not even the Dark one could cheer her. She began to slip in her education, mix with the wrong crowds and experiment with substances that were wrong for her.<p>

The Dark one wanted to help the his best friend, but the bright and strong personality he loved was in shreds. He grieved what was lost, the girl inside the Leader was foreign to him.

The Leader was no longer – she was now the Lost.

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><p>The Youngest one managed the flock for a while, but with the freedom she had generously given and was determined to maintain, it was impossible. Fights broke out. In her desperation to keep them together, she became manipulative and cold. It did not work.<p>

The first to be convinced, the first to understand. The Trooper and the Blind one left the remains of the flock when they had a bomb go wrong. It sent somebody to hospital with serious burns. They realised that the new way of the flock was wrong, and that the Leader would have never let them go this far. Now somebody was injured. They hurt for parting but they knew they could not stay. They stopped making bombs, too, because they knew that without the guidance of the Leader, somebody would get hurt again.

The Chatterbox stayed longer, but the coldness of the Youngest one forced her away. She always wanted to talk, always wanted to communicate her ideas. People told her she talked too much – the flock told her every day, but they still listened. There was no flock now. And if the flock wouldn't listen to her, who would? What was the point in opening her mouth if it would go unnoticed? The Chatterbox refused to speak, and became the Silent one.

The flock was shattered.

The Youngest one tried to continue to be prideful, believe that she was right, but was quickly filled with guilt and self-disgust. Why had she done this? For her pursuit for power, she had destroyed a family. _Her_ family. She understood now that the Leader had not chosen to lead, but it was an unspoken choice by the rest of the flock. She knew that there was more to being head than telling people what to do and that she didn't have what it took.

She had started this – she had to be the one to set it right.

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><p>The Youngest one walked up to the Lost on her way to the lounge room. The Lost looked terrible – her skin had a yellowish pallor and her hair was limp and greasy. The Youngest one felt her eyes fill at the sight, but continued with her mission.<p>

"Max!" She reached to touch her wrist. The Lost pulled away – the shreds that were the Leader flashed in her dull sunken eyes, displaying the depth of the betrayal and brutal injury that the Leader felt.

"Please, Angel, please don't-"

"But…"

The way the Lost sounded so frail and the way she shrunk back from the Youngest one's words like they were white hot brands made her fade off. She couldn't help it – she began to cry. While her hands covered her face, weak arms wrapped around her, and withered hands lightly stroked her hair. They were the Lost's – they were detached and they held no heart-warming comforting intentions. They were just actions memorised from a person of the past.

This just made the Youngest one cry harder.

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><p>The Youngest one tried to speak to the Lost again, several times, but the same thing occurred. She decided that she needed to get some of the other members of the flock to try.<p>

"Gazzy, Iggy…"

"What is it, Angel?"

"I need your help…"

They were reluctant at first, but she begged them, and they saw that the Youngest one's intentions were authentic. But when they tried to get a response from the Lost, she had nodded and smiled dreamily, high on some substance.

The Youngest one then went to ask the Silent one to help her. She felt guilty for this, as the Silent one was one of the more affected by what had happened, but she had to give it a go.

"Hey, Nudge. I need to ask you for a favour."

The Silent one, of course, didn't speak. But when she saw the little angelic girl she knew as her sister rather than the monster child she had seen for the last few months, she listened. When she went to talk to the Lost, however, she found her in the kitchen talking to the Voice aloud. After that she was too disheartened to try.

The Youngest one didn't ask the Dark one, because she saw that he had been on the same mission for much longer than she had been, and he was hurt by what had happened to the flock and the Leader the most of all.

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><p>Though all of the foster siblings had failed to get a proper response from the Lost, they now all had a common mission. They asked the Dark one to help. Together, they thought that they might be able to help her.<p>

And so the scattered fragments of the flock began to reform.

They gathered inside the Lost's room, where she was sitting on her bed and absently hitting her head on the wall behind her. The Dark one sat next to her. It took a while, but the Lost came back to the world around her. Her eyes darted around the room wildly, taking in the flock, and stopped on the Dark one.

"Fang…?"

The Lost's voice was insecure and vulnerable, something that the Leader never was. Yet it was the broken Leader that hesitantly reached out to the Dark one's face before drawing back like she was about to do something forbidden, and the punishment would cause her pain.

A single tear rolled down the Lost/Leader's face and Dark one encased her in his embrace as more followed the first. Four pairs of arms joined his soon after.

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><p>There were six.<p>

The Leader.

The Dark one.

The Blind one.

The Chatterbox.

The Trooper.

The Youngest one.

The flock was whole once again.

They seemed to be so close that they joined seamlessly, but when the odd person looked close enough, they could see the tiny cracks left by old scars.

But what didn't kill the flock made them stronger.

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><p><strong>So, what did you think? (I thought it was depressing) Please review! Reviews are the chocolate syrup and sprinkles on a writer's life. <strong>


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